Water Dyed Red
by swimming.in.lead.543
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple job...a quick delivery...I never should've gotten as complicated as it did...but revenge is a powerful motivator. I got dragged into the mafia's employ...and it all started with one goddamn job.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone...I know I know, I need to stop uploading stories and finish updating my old ones _ don't worry I'm working out an uploading schedule as I get things planned out. Anyways. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It's still a work in progress but I hope you all enjoy it! Please remember to review!**

There are a lot of things they don't tell you about the world in school. Crime, for one. It's real, and it's everywhere if you know how to look for it. Death is there too, but most people acknowledge that death exists, however if you start showing people the proof of crime in their backyard and they're likely to flip you off and keep going on being ignorant. I didn't have that choice. It started out as a simple enough job. Deliver a package. Don't look inside it. Simple. All travel expenses would be paid for by the Bouganvillia Trading company upon successful delivery...goddamn it this was supposed to be simple. Roanapur, Thailand, that was my destination. I go there, and deliver it to a Ms. Vasilinov at their local headquarters. I got flown in through Bangkok and waved down four different taxi drivers before finding one that was willing to take me to Roanapur, even then I had to pay him extra. He took me to the edge of town, right to the mouth of the bridge, a lone noose hanging at the entrance. My name is Jericho, Jericho Yurivich Boyka. I'm a courier, which is a fancy way of saying delivery boy. This bridge where I left all I knew about the world behind. I entered the streets of Roanapur on foot, greeted by stares and leers of all kinds. Local merchants, foreign workmen, white, Italian, Russian, Asian, all here. I kept out of reaching distance of every person I came across, I knew those stares, they were sizing me up, a mark. Wrong person, assholes. I kept moving. I made it within a hundred feet of my destination before some assholes decided to be direct, three people, Italians, blocked my route, they had a guy across the street, watching me. I could see two guns on them, two switchblades already in hand, but not deployed. I froze for a second and that cost me my option of booking it, I felt the metal of a gun barrel pressing into the small of my back.

"Easy, kid. No need to make a fuss, the alley on your right, walk into it." I stayed frozen for a bit, before he shoved the barrel of his gun, no, two barrels, shotgun, into my back. "Now, Ivan." I complied, slowly walking into the alley, subconsciously tightening the strap of my bag. This wasn't my first time being mugged, but it was the first time guns were involved. A few asshats with knives, I can handle. Three guns, one not a foot from my back? Not a good situation...even so I couldn't help letting out a grumble. "What was that?" I let out a sigh,

"I said I'm from Texas, asshole." I said, straightening up and turning to face him. "What do you want from me?" I could see the shotgun now, and old side-by-side, half-concealed in the sleeve of a trench coat. The man himself wasn't much to write home about, twenty-something year old, old straight razor scar on his left cheek, around six feet, bit on the stocky side. He pushed the barrels closer to my body, angling them up to my head. To be honest that wasn't my best move, aggravating the man with a twelve gauge pointed at me, by still, I was kinda pissed.

"Oh this cowboy's got spunk does he? We'll see how smart your feel with your head blown in half. What's in the bag?" I heard the click of a hammer being pulled back, none of the other guys had drawn their guns. Not a hammerless model then. Good.

"Clothes, a bottle of shampoo. My razor."

"Now see, why don't I believe you?"

"Because you want to believe you pinched the right guy instead of having fucked up and grabbed some dumbass going down the wrong street to his hotel. Whoever it is you're looking for, it ain't me." I let out with a sigh, unzipping my bag, revealing said items, dumping it onto the floor, the package wasn't in there, what? You think I couldn't get the hint that I would be heading to someplace not exactly friendly? Oh no, after the first cabbie refused to drive me, I shrink wrapped the package and taped it to my chest. It was thin enough to where my baggy clothes wouldn't show it.

"Jacket, off, now. Empty your pockets, all of em, fuckin' Captain cargo-pants here." Asshole. I let out another sigh and did so, pulling out two things, my wallet and a souvenir bottle opener I picked up in Bangkok. I held onto them in one hand, opening my wallet and throwing what little cash I had on me to the asshole on my left. Around 2500 Thai Baht. Not much by any means, but definitely enough for a room in a cheap hotel.

"Boss, he may be right...he don't got anything other than tourist stuff. Passport, shaving razor, soap. We might've nicked the wrong guy." One of the people that blocked my path originally was going through my stuff. "Doesn't even got a piece or an extra pair of shoes." The guy holding me up turned to face the guy talking, jackpot. I lunged, grabbing the scattergun and slamming my foot into his wrist, I grabbed the collar of his clothes and pulled him in front of me, I put the shotgun to the back of his neck.

"Guns on the ground or I give this _urod_ both barrels, capische?" I growled, and the fucker started laughing. The one with the shotgun to the back of his head. Laughing. What the hell was wrong with this place?

"Kid you've got balls, but unless you wanna lose 'em I suggest you drop me. You've got no idea how big of a shitshow you're stuck in right now." He stated, he had a smug confidence in his voice. I pulled back the other hammer.

"So your buddies can shoot me? No. Don't think so. I'm not stupid. Fuckin hell, wanna-be wise guys stay the same no matter where in the world you are it seems. Who you workin for eh? Six couriers? DeWitt deliveries? FedEx?" Yeah...you'd be surprised how low people will go to make sure they're the only ones delivering shit.

"Look kid, this is all just a big misunderstanding, alright? No need to do anything drastic. Just drop the gun. You'll be fine. Swear it."

"Now, see, why don't I believe you?" I stated, before shoving the fucker forward and blasting a barrel into his foot, his buddies dived for cover when I took aim at them, there was my chance and I took it, grabbed my bag and jumped off the dumpster onto the fire escape, I fired into the pile of guns as they were scrambling to get them. I made it to the roof before I heard gunshots ricocheting off of the building wall. Well this is just perfect.

"I WANT THAT BRAT DEAD, YOU HEAR ME? DEAD!" Brat? I'm nineteen you asshole. Honestly I don't get why people always called me that. Sure I was skinny but I didn't think it was that bad...okay back to the story. At this point I had jumped to an adjacent building and hid behind the roof access door, I had a good view, I could see them getting up the fire escape, practically climbing over each other to get to the roof, the guy I had shot in the foot was being helped by just one guy, however he had a gun in his hand. He's probably the guy that shot at me. The search party on the roof had missed me. They went into the building, I jumped to another building and made my way down to the ground floor while staying outside and bolted it towards my destination: Bougainvillea Trade company HQ. I actually made it to the door this time. There were a few guards but they didn't give me a second glance. I approached the welcome desk and greeted the clerk in Russian. " _ **Zdravstvuitye,**_ **Jericho Yurevich Boyka here to deliver a package to a Ms. Vasilinov?** " I said, standing straight and handing over my ID and passport. Had to look professional, despite having just escaped an attempted mugging.

" _ **Da**_ , **Ms. Vasilinov will see you, her office is on the top floor, there are restrooms on each floor, I would suggest you use one to freshen up, Mr. Boyka.** " The receptionist replied, handing back my ID, " **Boris, Mr. Boyka is here with the package, I'm sending him up shortly."** With that she waved me away. After a quick stop in one of the aforementioned restrooms to remove the package from my chest and the cling wrap keeping it from getting all sweaty, I made my way up. At the elevators I was searched for weapons and then let up. I didn't mind the third degree, considering what had just happened to me not even a half hour before. I was greeted at the top floor by a large man with a scar running diagonally across his face, this must've been the Boris the receptionist was referring to downstairs.

" **Mr. Boyka. Follow me.** " Well...man of few words it seems, I followed him and soon enough we were finally at my destination, the office of one Ms. Vasilinov. Said woman was tall, blonde, wore a maroon getup consisting of an above-the-knee skirt and dress shirt, she held a cigar in one hand and a phone in the other. Her body was marred with scars, one even clawing at the right side of her face, however that wasn't what caught my attention the most, it was her eyes, a dark blue, like looking at the soul of a shark always in frenzy. This wasn't a woman to mess with.

"Yes, Dutch, thank you. I'll be in contact with you for another job soon." She hung up the phone and addressed me with a nod towards the chair across from her. " **Sit, Mr. Boyka, we have much to discuss.** " With a silent nod I did so. " **By this point I assume you have deduced that my name is not Vladilena Vasilinov, Mr. Boyka. Please, call me Balalaika. Now, you have the package?"** Balalaika...the person that turned my life on its head. God knows that I never should've taken that job, but nevertheless I saw it through.

" _ **Da**_ , **Ms. Balalaika, here, it's still sealed.** " I retrieved the package from my bag and placed it on the desk, it wasn't large by any means, a cardboard box thinner than a VHS tape, but wider than a sheet of paper.

" **Do you know what you've delivered to us, Mr. Boyka?** " She held out her palm and Boris placed a knife into it, she quickly slit open the top, but placed the package down before extracting the contents.

" **No, ma'am. I had orders not to open it, and, to be frank, idle curiosity isn't worth losing my job...or my life.** " I stated.

" **Oh? What would make you believe your life is at risk, young Jericho?"**

" **Ma'am...if I may be frank, the only person in this building that doesn't have a gun or blade on them is me. I was mugged a block down by a bunch of-"**

" **Italians, correct? Not to worry, your accosters are being...dealt with, as we speak. Such a dirty business, asset delivery. Don't you think?"**

" **Ma'am?"**

" **The men that attacked you were small fry, working for the Italian mob that's branched here in Roanapur. Verrochio won't miss them."**

" **...they're dead and tossed in the ocean by now aren't they?"**

" **My you do pick up on things fast. You know what we are by now, I'm assuming."**

" **The Russian mafia, or a branch of. You're the leader. The big guy is likely your second-in-command."**

" **We are Hotel Moscow, young man. And you've done us a service. One we shan't forget. We would have used this job as a basis to continue hiring your company's services, however there needs to be a Dragon's Wing Express in order to hire a dragon's wing courier."**

" **...ma'am. The people in that company are a well oiled rifle. Reliable and capable of withstanding almost anything. Whatever you're implying, we'll bounce back."** I didn't notice it myself then, but my voice had an edge to it that sparked Balalaika's interest, and seemingly worried Boris, because he spoke up.

" **Mr. Boyka. Hotel Moscow had nothing to do with the assault on your company's headquarters. We received word this morning, just after your plane landed a group of men in masks stormed your building with milsurp weapons. They had a single sniper. There were no survivors, and the building was set on fire before they fled. At least, that's what the police have put together."** He said, I let out a sigh.

" **Mercenaries.** " I grumbled out " **now I gotta find out who they are and who hired them.** " I grabbed my bag and stood up from the chair.

" **Going for revenge already, young Boyka?"** Balalaika quipped, lighting another cigar. I gave a shrug.

" **As the sole survivor of the Dragon's Wing Express, I am contractually obligated to find the opposing party and either offer peace, or destroy them completely. Quite frankly, I'm not feeling very merciful right now. As the delivery has been completed, can I count on our previous agreement that travel arrangements will be made to deliver me back stateside?"** I asked, Balalaika let out a laugh that chilled my soul.

" **I can practically smell your bloodlust, Boyka. Sergeant, make the arrangements. Mr. Boyka, as your business partners Hotel Moscow will keep an ear out for intel concerning the mercenary group that attacked your company's HQ**. **There's a bar called the Yellow Flag, Go there and wait for Sergeant Boris. He'll show you your arrangements when they're done."**

" _ **Spasibo,**_ **Balalaika."** And with that our conversation ended, I was handed a wad of cash by the clerk I had talked to on the way out. I got directions to the yellow flag from the sergeant himself, and then made my way there. I guess I must've looked disheveled after that experienced because I noticed a lot less eyes on me as I walked through the city of death. When I got to a bar there must've been a drinking competition going on because there was a crowd gathering at the bar, I took a seat a little ways away from the crowd but I could see the action. A Chinese woman and a Japanese man, both knocking back shots of rum. The bartender walked up.

"We don't serve milk here kid." He stated simply, he was a Vietnamese man, his voice was high pitched and gravely.

"I'm nineteen, bartender. Kvass please."

"Hotel Moscow's starting 'em younger and younger…you gotta name kid?" The bartender asked, fetching a glass and filling it with the dark brown liquid.

"Jericho. And I'm not working for Hotel Moscow. Just waiting on my travel arrangements to get back to the lone star state." I took a swig from the drink and let out a sigh.

"A Ruskie living in the states, that's different."

"My father was Russian, my mom was East Indian, they met in Kiev, moved to New Delhi, then emigrated to the states, with my mom expecting me. Three months after getting to Texas I show up, taking after my father."

"Sounds like they were running from something."

"I dunno, pa died before he could tell me or my step sis." I took another swig of my drink. "I don't know why I'm talking to you about this, the drink ain't spiked is it?"

"I ain't stupid enough to risk that in this town. Name's Bao, kid. I've got a feeling you're gonna be around here more often than not." I laughed and raised up my glass,

"I ain't an alcoholic yet, Bao. I'll be sure to come here at that point though." I ended up talking with Bao a good bit after this, learned that this bar was his pride and joy, unfortunately he often had to rebuild due to the violence this city was known for. Must've been a bad omen because soon after I heard jeeps pulling up outside, and rifles being cocked. Bao must've heard it too because he grabbed my shirt and yanked me behind the bar just as three grenades went off.

" _ **BLYAT!**_ " I yelled, ducking my head down, gunfire was slamming into the other patrons, as well as the bar we were hiding behind. A new voice spoke up,

"Oh hey you bulletproofed the bar." It was the Chinese woman, calmly sipping on a glass of rum.

"This baby can handle up to a .50 caliber." Bao remarked with a bit of pride, before his face went angry. "REVY! Are these assholes friends of yours?!"

"Don't know 'em." She replied,

"Why is it that whenever you're here someone manages to fuck up my bar?! Who's gonna cover this, huh? If I find out you had anything to do with this I'll weld your asshole shut and open up a new one in your head!" Wow...that's a scary thought.

"REVY, you okay?" Another voice, deep, older.

"I'm good, Dutch!" Revy called back, I caught a glimpse of the man yelling, he was African American, wearing a green vest, camouflage pants, and combat boots, his eyes were covered by simple shades.

"Benny?"

"Miraculously still alive!" Blonde guy, Jewish, he ducked for cover behind the doorway with Dutch.

"Rock?"

"Dead! We're all so dead!" That must've been the Japanese guy. He was panicking. The gunfire was slowing.

"Rock calm down. Revy! Why don't you give 'em a taste of two hands." Dutch seemed to be the leader

"Gotcha Boss." There's my confirmation. The gunfire stopped. I tensed up and cracked my neck.

"Head inside boys, I heard voices, and if Texas taught me anything, it's that there's nothing I hate more than survivors." …

"Bao, stay down." I let out in a whispered growl, I caught sight of Revy grinning like a maniac and unholstering her pistols. I didn't have a gun, but the fucker on the other side of the bar did, as well as a knife. Bingo. I rushed the bastard, he tried to fire, he was empty, dumbass. I took the knife out of its shoulder sheath and slashed his throat. His buddies shot at me, I used his body as a shield, Revy sprung up from behind the bar and started firing, she killed the people shooting at me, and I rushed into the group turning to her. Stabbed two of them kicked the last one into Revy's line of fire, I flung my knife into a shooter across the room, and kicked the gun out of the one closest to me's hands. Then proceeded to beat him into the ground with a flurry of quick kicks and a final hook to the temple, I picked up his gun and opened fire into his teammates.

"REVY! We're leaving!" Dutch yelled, I saw Rock dash through the door. Revy was using one of the mercenaries as a shield, taking shots at whoever she had a bead on. She never seemed to miss.

"Got it, Dutch!" She said, backing towards the door, all the people on the inside were dead, it was only the stragglers on the outside, and even they were loading up their jeeps. I grabbed the unconscious merc and dragged him behind the bar. The jeeps rolled off and Bao stood up, shotgun at the ready.

"Kid...whatever they fed you, where can I get some. People would pay top dollar for no self preservation instinct." Bao and I exited the bar, dragging the unconscious mercenary outside.

"A whole lot of curry, bread, and _pelmeni._ Bao...do you know where I can get some answers out of this asshole...him and his buddies busted up my company's HQ stateside. I'm about to exact some street justice." I said, leaning the man against the wall with a sigh.

"There are a few places, if you have the money you can take him to Sawyer. A Cleaner, works out of a building called UG pork. She'll get him to squeal." Bao dashed back inside, coming back with sets of handcuffs, a few strips of cloth rope, and a large suitcase….

"Bao, should I even ask why you have this stuff?" I let out with a sigh. This city was insane.

"I run a Brothel upstairs, helps with all the repair bills. Thought you were a bit too young and sober to try and get you up there and I ain't doing this for free kid. He dies slow. Hear me? Tell these words to Sawyer: He. Dies. Slow." his voice was cold, tired, definitely a 'done with this bullshit' kind of tone.

"Orders received, Bao, If Hotel Moscow comes by, tell them where I am."

It took me a few minutes to reach the aforementioned UG pork. Lugging the big suitcase around, with it occasionally shaking, I still managed to make it to the building, knocking on the door. An ambiguous figure opened the door,

"Bao directed me here, this is one of the guys that shot up his bar earlier, I'm here because him and his guys made this personal, I'll pay, and Bao only has one instruction: he dies slow." the figure seemed to nod, I couldn't much tell, they were in scrubs, goggles, and wore a medical mask, they moved to a whiteboard across the room.

"I'm assuming you want to get first go at him?" they wrote, I nodded before tossing the suitcase into the building and closing the door. It took a bit of work but with, I assumed, Sawyer's help I was able to get the struggling mercenary into a chair and secured to it. I undid the gag and moved around to face him, Sawyer had provided me a hygiene mask. "You don't want splatter getting into your mouth, its not a very nice taste, not to mention the diseases you might contract." she had wrote, oh yeah, Sawyer was a woman underneath all those scrubs apparently. Anyway. After a triade of cursing that would've made a drunken sailor proud, I gave the man a quick straight to the gut.

"You done?" I asked, yanking his head back up.

"You're fucking dead kid! You know who you're fucking with right now? We're not some gang, we're mercenaries, you'll be hunted down and made an example of." the mercenary yelled. I let out a shrug.

"And what exactly do you think I'm going to do with you, hm? Y'see. I don't particularly enjoy hurting people...but right now, I'm staring at someone who murdered a bunch of my friends, coworkers, and the closest thing I had to family. This, is personal, i have a feeling I'm gonna find myself enjoying it."

"Heh, then you know what's gonna happen to you when they find out what happened."

"Your buddies beat a hasty retreat, you got beat into the ground by a scrawny nineteen year old. They got no idea where you are, and that's just fine with me, because that means you and I can have a nice little chat."

"You ain't gonna get shit from me. When my guys find you, you're dead, you, your little pet butcher, you're gonna suck my dick in hell-" I cut off his triade with another punch to the gut.

" _You won't be so sure when I put the Acetylene to ya_." I growled into his ear. Sawyer brought out the said blowtorch, simply shrugging when I raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna make this simple, because no matter whether you make this easy for us, or difficult, it's going to end the same way. You're going to tell us the name of your outfit, the name of your employer, and why you went after the Dragon's Wing Express Delivery Company. And however much pain you endure before you tell us is entirely up to you." I picked up the nozzle of the Acetylene torch and lit it quickly. "Please, _please,_ make this difficult. I'm begging you." the sound of a chainsaw revving up behind me signalled Sawyer's enthusiasm. I was right about my earlier assumption, when i eventually did put the Acetylene to him, he wasn't nearly as tight lipped.

At the end of our little interrogation of the mercenary I learned a lot. First thing was that I could only put up the front of sadistic revenge-driven bastard for so long, after the third hour or so I left the room and hurled.

"The fuck am I doing?" I mumbled, leaning up against the outer wall of UG Pork. A new voice spoke up, synthesized.

" _You are emotional, doing things you wouldn't normally do, you've been in a red haze and now it's clearing. You are not suited for this life._ " It was Sawyer, she had removed her mask, goggles, and bandanna. She was holding an Ultra-voice to her throat. I could see the faint lines of a scar, straight razor cut...jesus.

"I'm no stranger to crime. Or even being mugged...hell this isn't even my first time ending someone's life...it's just...its the way people are reacting that's getting to me. Like this is commonplace, and I'm not sure if thats whats getting to me or if it's the fact that I'm turning out to be good at this... **blyat** this is just fucked. No other way to say it."

" _You're better at this than most, but I would not get ahead of myself if I were you. For one you cooked his hand for too long, he did not feel the full extent of the pain. Your removal of his fingernails was sloppy, and could have led to excessive bleeding that would jeopardize Bao's orders."_

"He dies slow."

" _Indeed"_

"How much do I owe you?"

" _Bao and I have a previous agreement, as such I'll only charge you for the use of my equipment...I'll admit, while you made amateurish mistakes at times, you definitely made good on your promise with the Acetylene. If you return to Roanapur after dealing with this...Kageyama, you may find work for you here, if you toughen up your stomach that is. Leave two hundred american dollars in the tip jar at the entrance."_

"Got it." With those two words I walked out, with a lot on my mind. Turns out, Boris was waiting around the corner of the building, as well as a car.

"Mr. Boyka, I'm assured you're not going to get blood on the seats?" There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, I shrugged

"I'm clean, don't worry." I said as we entered the car. "So how is this going to work?"

"We've arranged for two options, as you've no doubt found out the individual that contracted Extra Order is a Masahiro Kageyama, an executive of Asahi Industries. Option one is for you to be taken back to the United States, where you could prepare your assault and make accommodations to Japan on your own expense. Balalaika advises against this. The second option is a direct route to Japan, where you will be provided with directions to the Asahi Industries building where Kageyama works. If you choose this route this will be considered another job for the Dragon's Wing Express from Hotel Moscow, you will be provided a Makarov, a knife, and, if you prefer, a Dragunov."

"Sergeant, I'm going to talk to the man. Not murder him without reason...hell I might just send a message...albeit a violent one involving broken bones and bloody knuckles but still."

-Japan, Two Days Later-

My Japanese was never the best. Hell I only learned it in the first place because of my sister went through an Otaku fase while I was in high school. Still, it was enough to realize that the locals...were really freakin racist. At least, the ones in the Asahi Industries Kansai building were. Either way, I was directed up to Masahiro Kageyama's office quickly and without much prying, which was good. The room itself was an actual room, the only windows being the ones on the outside.

"It is my understanding that you have a delivery for me…"

"Aye, Kageyama-san...although probably not the one you were expecting." the said package wasn't anything special, a bit of force tore through the paper and drew out the contents, a nine-millimeter makarov with a suppressor, the business magnate's eyes widened. "Stay seated, hands up. Keep your mouth shut and you may keep your head without any extra holes.

"Hotel Moscow sent you…"

"Oh no, I'm not a part of the mafia, this is a bit more...personal. You see, I am the sole remaining employee and now owner of the Dragon's Wing Express Courier Company. I came here for a single reason. And that is to know why. Why did you hire mercenaries to attack and destroy my company?" I stepped closer with each sentence, eventually standing right across from the man, the only thing separating us being his desk, my gun holding steady over his forehead.

"I see...I'm assuming depending on my answer you may or may not let me live."

"You've got it in one."

"You must realize that there was no personal ire against you or your compatriots. It was a simple business maneuver. Eliminate a tool before a threat can use it against you. Statistics, probabilities, logistics. All concluding that the elimination was the best move."

"You could've just sued, even if it was bullshit it would've tied us down. Why the excessive force huh? Why burn my friends alive, why send in psychopaths with guns? You're Japanese, your people fear firearms more than almost anyone on earth. We were a small outfit, no threat to your international conglomerate. "

"A show of force. Displays of strength often deter action of enemy factors."

"Sure as hell did the opposite this time." I growled, "I should rip you to shreds wit my bare hands for what you did...I really should."

"I would not stop you. I'm too old to fight off someone as young as you. This entire caseload has been nothing but trouble. If it's any comfort you do have my condolences. It was never meant to be personal...just business. " I let out another growl...fucking hell I wanted to pull the trigger. Would've been so simple. So easy...too easy. So I decided to do something worse. Something slow…

"Kageyama-san, you do not have my sympathies, and you do not have my pity. You gave the order to kill those I consider family...your own way of Bushido would allow me to remove your head in retribution...but no. You will deal with the consequences of your actions for the rest of your life. I would keep an eye on the news, Kageyama, there's a storm coming." with that spiel I hid the gun in my jacket and grabbed the business magnate by the back of his head, slamming his nose onto the edge of his desk. "OH GOD MR. KAGEYAMA ARE YOU OK?" I shouted, loud enough to be heard outside, I ran to the door and opened it, shouting outside "MR. KAGEYAMA FELL! I'M GETTING HELP!" I ran past many suddenly concerned looking salarymen, a few branching off to do what I had just said. I did not in fact get help, I made my way out of the building and into a waiting car, driving off and pulling out my cellphone and texting a message to my sister. We hadn't kept in touch for a while but I was still her baby brother...she would do me this favor. Janet Bhai was a lot of things, but a shitty hacker was not one of them.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of months into my life of working odd jobs around roanapur had left me a little stir-crazy. I had become a regular at the Yellow Flag, and a regular employee of Hotel Moscow. I had shipped in some of my courier supplies from the States, earned some brownie points with Lagoon doing it. Either way...Today was hell. The job with Sawyer entailed us liquifying some poor bastard. Had to remove the guys legs and put them in plastic bins. It was long and messy process. After that I kept getting propositioned by the Nun, Eda, I think her name is… and I'm not talking about her telling me the cost of the gun I was looking into. Right now I was at the Flag, idly nursing a glass of whiskey.

"Long day, Dirtbike?" I heard, letting out a groan as I heard the familiar voice. Eda again, this time clad in Daisy Dukes and a pink crop-top.

"My name is Jericho, Eda." I said, turning to face the woman.

"Finally good to get some confirmation on that. People are calling you all sorts of shit. I'll stick with Jailbait though." The woman replied with a laugh, waving over Bao and getting her own drink.

"I'm twenty, damn it." I grumbled with a sigh, "What do you want, Eda?" I asked, downing my glass.

"A piece of that butt, A better Glock, a puppy, a piece of that butt." The nun replied, snaking her arm around my shoulders. I sighed and just let the woman rest her arm on me.

"Keep the hand above the waist until I'm drunk enough not to care, please…" I said with a sigh.

"I might have some info for you that might be worth me copping a feel every now and again, don't you think…?" The woman practically purred, but my curiosity was peaked. A bit of time in roanapur teaches you that if Eda has info and wants something for it, it's usually worth paying the price...even if it's getting molested by a possibly shotacon nun.

"...one squeeze, if the info is actually worth it."

" _Baby one squeeze and you won't want me to stop_." Eda purred into my ear, the blush growing on my cheeks was from the whiskey, I swear.

"Just tell me what you were going to, before I regain some sense of preserving my virginity."

" _I'm definitely taking that._ Anyway, you'd probably be interested in knowing that the Columbians and Italians have been asking around about you. More notably, about your old man. Yuri Boyka, Correct?"

"How the-"

"Your father was a prison fighter for the russian Mob, won an upset victory against a columbian junkie called 'El Dolor' obviously everyone except the Russians bet on the Columbian, The Italian Mafia and the Columbians obviously lost the most money. Word on the street is that they're thinking of getting you to make up for the money they've lost. You're gonna have to get yourself from friends, Jailbait. I volunteer as one...with _benefits,_ of course." Eda explained, purring into my ear as her hand snaked down my back and grabbed my rear. I quickly stood up, downing the rest of my glass, and untangling myself from the blonde cougar.

"Thank you for the info, Eda. I hope you enjoyed groping me, I'm going to leave now before I get too drunk to listen to my better judgement." I said, walking to the door after tossing Bao a wad of Baht, I'd get my change later, Bao wasn't an ass when it came to that.

"Oh come on baby! I've already seen you almost naked, You'll be wearing a speedo for me eventually, Mr. State Champ!" Those words made me freeze before I darted out the door of the bar and hopped onto my bike. 350 Cubic Centimeters of engine on an all-terrain dirt bike, perfect for the torn up roads of roanapur, and tore off into the streets of the crime-city.

Eda's words rang through my skull as I barrelled down the roads of roanapur. The roar of the engine underneath me and the wind tearing around my helmet helping me focus, gather my thoughts. Roanapur was a hellhole for the unprepared...and right now, with all this crap ringing through my head...I was feeling pretty freaking unprepared. I got to my home in the city...a small office building on the docks. The building itself was mostly for show. There was a room, a bed, working TV and refrigerator. If I ever had guests I'd bring them up there. but the place where i kept my valuables? The place I knew no one would try and rob? That was where I was heading. To the naked eye it would look like a simple stack of four shipping containers two by two. Secured with steel cable and padlocks. It was a hell of a lot more than that. Doing jobs for Hotel Moscow and apprenticing with Sawyer paid me well enough to where I turned these four shipping containers into a fortress. I'd reinforced the outer walled enough to handle a 40mm explosive. The inner walls of the containers had been cut away and replaced with support beams to keep the area from caving in on itself. An AC unit disguised as a sandstone boulder kept the place cool enough with the sea breeze aiding it. This place was my bunker, my gym, my garage, and my armory. albeit my armory was empty at the moment, save for a double barreled sawn off. I had a few things imported from my home in the states, namely my bike and the funds required for me to get the land this monstrosity was on. I parked the bike inside and locked up the door. I sat down in the living space and sighed. I was making enemies. bad ones. If I pissed off the Italians here it would follow me back to the states if I ran away. At least if it were any of the other gangs it wouldn't follow me back. The triad had some hold in California, Colombians in Florida, and the Russians just avoided the US for personal prejudice reasons I'd assume, but the italians...New york, louisiana, chicago, even texas. I was gonna need allies. and i was gonna need to prove my worth to get them. With that in mind I pulled the brick of a wireless phone out of its charger, and dialed in...  
"Lagoon Company, Dutch Speaking."  
"Dutch, this is Jericho Boyka, we've met before, albeit we were being shot at."  
"Unfortunately that happens a lot, refresh my memory."  
"Yellow flag, extra order hit squad, Bao threatened to weld Two-hands' asshole shut."  
"You're the kid that cut in on Revy's fun."  
"Now you got a name to the crazy...and crazy has a proposition, or a job offer. depending on how this conversation goes."  
"Considering you're our only competition on land, why should I trust this isn't a trap?"  
"One, the only family in this place that hires me regularly is Hotel Moscow, and that's because they want to help out a countryman. Two, I'm small fry. Haven't proved myself to anyone yet. unfortunately, I'm a small fry with a family connection to someone the Italians didn't like very much. Why? I don't know, and that's why I'm calling you. Your man, Benny. I've heard he's some sort of computer whiz. That got any truth to it?"  
"...keep talking."  
"I need to find out more information on something Eda told me. Yuri Boyka. I want the details of the tournament in Georgia, and anything else you can tell me on him. I'm willing to pay Five Grand, American...and I'll owe you. big time." There was a long pause, and I heard voices on the other end. discussion, some of it I could make out, most of it I couldn't. soon enough another voice popped up on the phone. Benny, I assumed.  
"Your old man was a prisoner. Double homicide. spent most of his life in prison in prize fights. Better cell, more rec time. All of it. that is until the Iceman was sent to the prison he was in. The prison was run by the local mafia boss, a man by the name of Gaga. Wanted to set up a fight between the Iceman and Boyka. Your old man lost. and his knee was busted up so badly his career was over for almost two years. When some big wig over in Georgia put together this big tournament. Winner earns their freedom. Of course, the whole thing was rigged for this big colombian guy to win, and at the time of the qualifiers, your old man was mopping the toilets in his prison. watching some upstart take his spot as undisputed champion. He trained in secret and eventually, beat the new guy and got put on a bus to georgia. He was put into the bracket and ended up training partners with an American, went by Turbo. he was, the Italians ticket in the pot. shit went down and Your old man helped turbo escape. He went on, and despite being tricked into believing Gaga had betrayed him, He won the competition, breaking the colombian's leg so bad in the process that he was put down to save him pain. Gaga made the most money on that fight. everyone else lost everything. The big wig in georgia got killed, as did the Italian rep. Turbo saved your old man from being shot in the back and Gaga dropped him off with a suitcase of money near Kiev. The rest, i'm sure you know, is history...Sorry to hear how your old man went."  
"He was ready for it when it happened...thanks Lagoon...Where do you want to pick up the payment." The phone was handed off back to Dutch.  
"Meet us at the Yellow Flag. Something tells me you're gonna need a drink." The call hung up then, and I let out a sigh. gathering the required funds from a safe in the underground section of the bunker, hopping on my bike, and storming off into the city of sin. I got to the Flag and locked up my bike. heading inside quietly. I sat next to Dutch and handed him an envelope full of money. Before calling over Bao and ordering a glass of something strong.  
"Honestly, that was probably the easiest job you've had all week."  
"Amen...You doing alright, kid? Got the veil pulled from your eyes rather quick."  
"Veil was full of holes, saw enough either way, still, this puts things into perspective. Pa's cane, the training. Makes more sense now though. It's got me thinking of my next move. I dunno I'm worried. I got enemies in this town. but they'd follow me home, and I'm not in the mood for a run. And you guys get all the jobs that pay well outside of HM. I need contacts, I'm making friends here, and Hotel Moscow has its eye on me in a good way, but these friends know how the town works. I've got no doubt that if the Italians put out a hit, I'd be hung out to dry." I let out a snort of laughter and gulped down the glass of grain alcohol that was put in front of me, coughing lightly afterwards.  
"You never told me about that proposition you had...I'll admit I'm a little curious." Dutch said, nursing a glass of whiskey, I shrugged.  
"I was gonna propose a deal, if i get a job that requires discrete overseas travel, in lieu of putting myself further in the red by getting my own boat or jetski, I'd give you a portion of the payment for the job in return for allowing me to have passage on your PT boat."  
"What percentage?"  
"The original plan was to start at 25 and get you to agree to forty. I ain't got the patience to haggle right now." I said, offering a hand to shake towards Dutch. "40% of a job for passage on the Lagoon when needed, or I stick with land jobs for a couple of months to get my own water transport and risk getting blown out of the water by two hands and an m79."  
"You really think Revy's gonna shoot you in the back?"  
"Or the front, the head. I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me after the scuffle here earlier and the incident at the church. I'm pretty sure her opinion of me is 'target practice waiting to happen.'" It was after this that I heard the new yorker laugh, plant herself in the stool next to me, and get in my face.  
"Aww, is the little ruskie afraid of little ole me?"  
"Yes. yes I am. I'm afraid of damn near everyone in this town, but you and Balalaika I know not to get on your bad sides for any reason. I mess with everyone, hell even Sawyer. but you two? Yeah I make sure you know who I am when y'all walk into UG."  
"Good, it means you're not completely stupid. People who don't know who to be afraid of end up dead." With her piece said she walked off and joined rock one more time in going shot for shot.  
"She enjoys that waaaaay more than she should." I mumbled, idly letting my forehead hit the bartop.  
"We got a job coming up...I wouldn't mind you tagging along to get your sea legs...you any good at swimming?"  
"500m varsity state champ 1998."  
"Nice. how long can you hold your breath."  
"Can swim two hundred meters before having to come up for air...you gonna ask me if I know how to dolphin dive now?"  
"How far can a bullet travel once it hits the surface of the water."  
"Two to three feet. surface tension takes most of the force. if its fired underwater that when there's risk."  
"You've done your research."  
"Little bit. read stuff, researched things online. had a bit of a gun nut phase so i've got some trivia stored upstairs...when is this job coming up?"  
"Tomorrow morning. bring whatever weapon you got. if it ain't up to snuff you can borrow one from our armory but you're reimbursing us the ammo."  
"Gotcha...see you then Dutch."

The feel of the open sea was something that wasn't too new to me, but still, it was a bit of an experience.  
"Enjoying the ride along?" this was Benny. his head poking up out of the bulkhead.  
"I'm getting used to it, Bikes are more my thing than boats. How about you? cooped up in that room all day can't be that fun. even if your Rig is crazy." I said, leaning up on the railing of the boat.  
"I make sure to get my daily dose of sun. Forgive me if i'm being blunt, but...you don't seem like the other guns for hire i've seen around town. You don't have that look in your eyes." I shrugged at this, idly drawing the sawn off out of my leg holster and appraising it.  
"I haven't had to use this thing yet, but I've already got blood on my hands. I prefer to not have to shoot or stab my way out of things. I can usually talk my way out of things. but here...sometimes you don't get the option..no, most times you don't get the option. I've been shot out more in the last two months than I have in my whole life prior to this. and i don't think thats gonna stop anytime soon. The city is a powder keg, surrounded by matches and poked full of holes."  
"I ain't gonna argue with you there...only a certain breed can end up in roanapur without getting killed. You've been doing okay. In comparison to other up and coming guns that've gotten to know that noose hanging over the bridge intimately." Benny had a dark sense of helping me get accustomed to things.  
"Real encouraging, benny. real encouraging. That kind of thinking is why I have a bunker." It was at this that Revy popped out of the bulkhead and onto the deck.  
"You have a bunker?! what?!" I let out a small chuckle but nodded,  
"Yeah, I got a bunker somewhere on the beachfront. I ain't gonna tell you any more than that."  
"Dutch! The little Ruskie's got a bunker! how stupid is that?!"  
"It actually is smart, in his situation. He has a public address, where no doubt the people that want him hurt watch like a hawk, and then he's got where he actually rests his head, secured and locked up tight. Either way, enough chatter, we're approaching the salvage point, Revy, Rock, suit up."

Once Rock and Started the dive, it was a bit of a waiting game, they were going after some old Nazi U-boat that was sunk here en route to to the Eastern Front. A painting, supposedly made by old Adolf Hitler himself. I honestly couldn't care for it. Still, when a large ship breached the horizon, Dutch was concerned.

"There aren't supposed to be any other boats in the area today...Richo, keep yourself on your toes...and pick up a gun." He said, I followed the order and went into the armory of the Lagoon. The weapon that called out to me was haphazardly tossed onto a rack with the bolt still open. I cleaned it up and grabbed a few magazines. I'm not the best shot, but I didn't need to be.

The Remington model 700. bolt action .308 rifle. Not the best sniper, but beggar's couldn't be choosers. I got on top of the cabin and Loaded the rifle. Five rounds in the magazine. twenty more in my pockets, and a whole ammo can below deck. I had a bad feeling, but I simply kept the rifle slung as the sun reached its peak. No wind, and the ship was within reasonable distance, I could make out small figures walking about the deck. With the scope I'd be able to see the whites of their eyes, I'd imagine. I heard Dutch on the radio in my ear. "Keep your finger off that trigger, Jericho. We don't need the attention."

"I know, Dutch...I've just got a bad feeling. I won't do anything stupid, but I'll be prepared if they do."

"Just don't shoot your eye out, kid."

The waiting was the worst part, then i saw the commotion, crates being set up. I unslung the rifle and looked through the scope, they were setting something up, machine gun? no, tube...rack...missiles, oh shit

"DUTCH THEY'RE SETTING UP TOWS." I shouted, lining up a shot and praying to god that I hit something important as I pulled the trigger, the rifle barked and I saw one of the people carrying the case of ammunition jerk to the side and fall to the ground. I didn't have time to think as they rushed into a panic. Some of them had started taking pot shots at us with handguns. I racked the bolt and lined up another shot, this time aiming for the case of missiles on the deck of the ship, a couple of them were trying to grab it, the rifle barked again, some idiot lost his hand. racked the bolt, fired, sparks flew to the left of the case, Racked the bolt and fired again, a man fell dead, racked the bolt held my breath, fire. The round deflected off the case and ricocheted into a man's neck. I was dry and trying to reload when I saw the plume of fire lit up the distance and the missile start flying towards us. Dutch swerved us and booked it until we were out of range, he came out of the bridge with a heavy sigh, and a glare at the large vessel.

"Assholes...Benny you okay? Richo?" He asked, eliciting a groan over the radio from Benny and one from me as well.

"I'm alive...somehow." I grumbled, Benny chipping in

"I'm okay, my setup is screwed for a bit though."

"Alright, I took us out to just outside of their TOW range...Richo, bring up the can of .308 and keep an eye out for any sharpshooters of their own."

"Dutch, I ain't the best shot with this thing."

"Better than Benny, and I need to drive this thing. You were doing fine earlier, we just gotta wait for Rock and Revy, then we can get out of this shitshow." Dutch was calm, as much as he could be, concerning the situation, but that's when benny spoke up.

"Dutch, Rock and Revy don't know what's up here. we don't have a way to warn them."

"All we can do is wait, Benny boy." I let out a sigh and simply watched through the scope. watching these neo-nazi bastards get all merry, despite their dead and injured. they brought out something that immediately got my concern.

"You seeing this Dutch?" Benny quipped, leaning against the outer hull of the cabin with a pair of binoculars in hand.

"They're prepping a diving bell. And having some kind of hype march...Jackasses, all of them." I mumbled, watching through the scope of the rifle. even with the scope it was like looking at a man on a TV. small figures, I'd have to compensate for drop, and thank God that there was no Wind.

"Get a bunch of like minded fools and pair them with a march loving leader and you've got yourself a movement. Makes my skin crawl. How about you Benny boy, what's your opinion as a white man?" Dutch said, walking out of the cabin with a couple beers in hand.

"You can't pull that on me Dutch, I'm Jewish, 'fuck the Nazi's' is pretty much a family creed."

"Oh right, I forgot...how about you Richo?"

"I don't like bigots. these guys...well I'll put it this way, I'm thinking of them as two legged Boar so I don't feel too bad. Scum covered, idiotic, pigs." I said, leaning back on the rails of my perch. "Besides, I'm Russian. There's a fountain in Stalingrad that people say still spouts blood once every blue moon."

"so...fuck the Nazis?"

"Fuck the Nazis"

"Fuck the Nazis"

After that little bit of shared hatred we went back to simply watching and waiting. They sunk the diving bell and it was only a matter of time before there was a commotion, they were setting up machine guns, I could see splotches of blood rising to the surface. revy's work. I perched up and lined up a shot, the rifle barked and once more a man fell dead. One of the gunners that was already set up. Rack the bolt, say a prayer, fire. Machine gun busted with a bullet to the receiver, I was aiming for the guy behind it. I racked the bolt one more time and fired again as the other machine gunner sprayed the ocean. He was sent to the ground missing a foot.

"Keep up that fire, Jeri, Give them a chance to get back to us. Benny, see if they've popped the beacons!" I let out a grunt of affirmation and continued trying to pick off the people on the deck. Rifle barked one more time and I saw something that still sticks with me to this day, the round hit the guy in the neck, his body fell, his head, flew off and over the edge of the boat. decapitation by bullet, not something I'd ever thought I'd put on my resume, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. I reloaded the rifle and continued to fire...my hands were shaking, because I only ever winged someone until the last man was scrambling into the ship, I hit him in the chest, I could see the blood splatter onto the door of the ship, and then it was done. No more gunfire, Revy and Rock were picked up a couple of minutes later, only…

"Those fuckers got the package." Five words were enough for me to slam my head into the metal wall of the cabin.

"Blyat."

"Fuck, is right...Revy, you up to go get our paycheck back?"

"As long as I get to steal what I want to steal, kill who I want to kill, I'll be just fine, Dutch."

"All right two hands...get ready. Richo, you're gonna be running overwatch, guards on deck, you take 'em out. If you can see anyone that isn't us, take the shot." Dutch was in full commander mode. I nodded and shifted my grip on the rifle.

"I'll do my best Dutch."

"You better, Ruskie, If I catch a bullet in the ass, you're catching one in your skull."

"Easy, Revy. Alright. we'll be getting in a little closer, then using the dinghy, board. I want a sitrep on your ammo situation, Jericho. Revy, you're gonna need to load up as well. Take those 92s to these Motherfuckers."

The approach was quiet, I had essentially tied myself to the railing on top of the cabin, and just made sure that the range on the scope was still good. Radio sparked to life.

"Got a visual on us, Richo?" Dutch asked, I could hear the sound of waves hitting the metal hull over the earpiece. I brought my finger up and pressed the receiver.

"Da, I see you, Starboard side, water line. There's a guard a little further down the deck, taking aim." I said, I could see the dinghy in the shadow of the ship, up above, a large man, brown uniform and a bottle in hand, I settled the crosshairs just above his head and fired. He fell and the bottle shattered onto the ground.

"Good kill...I could barely hear the shot over the sound of this thing's engines. take advantage of that."

"Gotcha..."

"Don't start growing a conscience while we still have a job to do. Revy, Let's move."

The two got moving, I followed them through the scope, looking out for stragglers, Dutch's words rang in my head, they're just pigs, Jericho...Boar tearing up the brush. Aim, fire. a man fell off the upper deck and landed on the floor. he didn't get up. Rack the bolt, take aim, compensate for drop, wait for the water to settle...fire. splatter of blood as another man's head burst like a watermelon...round must've keyholed. rack the bolt, aim, fire. A man fell into the ocean and floated up face down. This process was repeated until there were no more men remaining on the exterior, and then something revealed itself to me, the main office, the bridge of the ship, behind a thin pane of glass sat a short fat man, on the phone. the door burst open and I saw Dutch enter the room. they were talking about something. Revy enters, places something on the desk. They talk more, the man stands, holding a gun, I fire. and a hole appears in the fat man's head before he falls to the ground.

"Damn...hell of a shot there Ruskie."

"You told me to make sure you didn't get a bullet in the ass. I'm just doing what you told me." I said, slinging the rifle over my shoulder and leaning back against the rails. "I'm just glad this crapshoot is over."

"You and me both, Richo. We're heading back to the ship. We'll be getting drinks at the yellow flag when we get back home. Good job everyone."

The ride back was tense. I stayed outside for the most part, resting in the sun, letting the wind keep me cool as the City of Roanapur crested the Horizon.

"Hey...Jericho?" It was Rock, guy didn't talk to me much.

"Yeah? What's up?" I asked, looking down at the newest member of the lagoon from my perch.

"I seem to remember you saying that you weren't that good of a shot. Yet...you killed a lot of people the other day." I shrugged at his question, thinking a bit before responding.

"I'm not. I missed a lot of shots before being able to get some on target. some of those misses...they made people die painfully. I tried to disassociate myself, think of those men as something other than human. At first it worked. I thought of them as boar. pigs. animals to hunt. But each time I pulled the trigger, it was a man that fell dead, a man that ran and ducked in fear. human beings. when they're in front of you, it's different. I can slit a man's throat and watch him bleed out without blinking, because I know that he's going into shock too fast for him to feel anything. whenever i've hurt someone, they've always wronged me personally before. they hurt me, they threatened my loved ones, or they ruined my livelihood. These men. hurting them, killing them. it wasn't personal. my blood wasn't boiling enough to where I let my anger cloud my remorse. I don't enjoy killing. But i realized, on the smart end of that rifle. That i had a job to do. I'm a courier, I deliver packages. most of the time those packages are wrapped in paper and in a bag. this time, the package was two people on a job to get back their own package. I delivered them to their goal. Nothing more, nothing less. I did my job...and I'll face my punishment like a man when the pale horse arrives."

"I didn't take you for the religious type."

"My father was the epitome of catholic guilt. I read the bible every day when I was younger. House rules. 'Learn from their mistakes, and heed the warnings. " My father would say. 'You are Jericho. you bring down walls.'...To be honest my sister is a lot better at that than me. Although, she's best at bringing down firewalls than anything else. I just...I'm good at hurting people, always have been. Fists, knives, axes...hell it seems I've got a talent for guns as well. You know something rock? Its infinitely easier to kill a man, than to save one. Ending a life, it can be as simple as turning someone's head too far. Saving someone...your hands get stained with blood so fast trying to stop that blood. The neck...it's one of the worst places for a doctor to try and help...so many blood vessels, the jugular, the carotid artery, the windpipe, the vertebrae. I tried saving people. I really did. But you can only watch so many people die when trying to save them before you think keeping them from being wounded in the first place seems like a better idea. Pa said I bring down walls...No. I tear them down like Joshua. God gave me these hands...I don't like what I'm good at...But I'll make sure that at least I'll be hurting the right people."


End file.
